


Unbearable Pleasure

by MagpieMinx (CardinalFox)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Aftercare, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/Dom/Sub Undertones, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration in One Hole, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fellatio, M/M, Mafia AU, Masochism, Multi, Naked Female Clothed Male, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sadism, Sex Toys, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest, Unnecessarily Hung Spardas, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Wildly Undernegotiated Kink, hostage reader, some nipple play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalFox/pseuds/MagpieMinx
Summary: Being gifted to them doesn't make you any less of a hostage, but in this case, there are worse things.ORIt's only water, it's only fire, it's only loveIt's only slaughter, we're only liars, it's only blood-It's Only (feat. Zyra) by ODESZA





	Unbearable Pleasure

“Are you really that concerned?” Dante asks, his hand still resting heavily on the back of your neck, palm hot even through the leather against your nape.  It takes effort to suppress a shiver when his thumb rubs idly down the side of your neck, and it takes just as much effort not to squirm in his lap. Even an idle shift of your weight could cause his attention to turn to you, so you do your best to hold perfectly still.  It’s a little easier like this, leaning against his broad chest, your forehead resting against his throat. What’s not easier is his other hand, the one resting so casually on your inner thigh.

Vergil paces- no, prowls- across the floor, his mirror-polished shoes making no sound on the plush rug in front of the heavy, antique desk he was sitting at earlier.  There’s a restless energy radiating off him that makes you nervous, and despite your desire to remain utterly still, you curl reflexively into Dante. Vergil pauses in his pacing and turns on his heel to face Dante as Dante’s hand slides down your spine in what you take to be a soothing gesture.  You shiver, more from the intensity of Vergil’s gaze than Dante’s touch as Vergil says, “This isn’t their first offense. If we allow them to believe we’ve gone soft-”

“I don’t know about soft, they seemed pretty eager to toss us this pretty plaything,” Dante responds, his hand leaving your back to wrap under your chin so he can turn your face up to Vergil.  You feel your eyes widen, but Vergil’s expression as he looks at you is cool and dispassionate, an impersonal assessment and nothing more. The coldness of it makes you flinch, and Vergil abruptly turns away to pace again.  Dante’s grip on your face loses its firmness, and you pull away from it.

“They think they can appease us long enough for us to forget that they still owe us,” Vergil says tightly, and then pauses to glare at Dante from over his shoulder, “No thanks to you accepting their little… gift.”  His eyes flicker to you, but there’s no warmth or appreciation there, just a hard, glittering resentment that you don’t understand. It scares you, makes you shy away, shifting and pressing closer to Dante.

“Relax, Verge,” Dante says, his hand back on the nape of your neck, “We’ll send Nero to collect tomorrow, and if they don’t have it, we’ll kill ‘em.”  You shudder and bite your lip at the nonchalance he says that with, the unnecessary reminder that the Spardas deal out death as easily as you might give someone a glass of water from your tap.  

“We should have killed one of them while they were still here,” Vergil snaps, resuming his prowling, stalking to the far side of the desk and then rounding it.  He pauses to pull out the leather chair, sits down in it and folds his hands and rests them on the polished surface of the desk, his eyes boring into you. It’s more likely that he’s looking at Dante, but it feels like he’s looking at you, watching you like a hawk with those glacial eyes, trying to judge your usefulness.  “Killing them all will interrupt our supply line.”

“Someone else can take over, I’m sure Lady or Trish will have some ideas,” Dante answers, and then he yawns, mouth open, teeth showing, like some kind of silver lion.  You lean away from his open mouth, and his hand leaves the back of your neck, suddenly wrapped around your waist as he says, “Woah, baby, don’t go falling out of my lap.”

You can’t help it, you panic, your stomach twisting with nausea and a flush heating your cheeks until your face feels like it might be on fire.  You squeak a rushed, “I’m sorry!” Hearing your own voice at such a high pitch is mortifying, and you press your thighs together around Dante’s hand, forgetting it’s there until you feel it trapped between them, so close to your pussy.  His head tilts, pale silver hair falling against his face, smirking as he grips your inner thigh, digging his fingers into your flesh. Your hands drop to his, your fingers curling under his, but then you freeze instead of pulling his hand off, afraid of the consequences if you do.

“You’re cute,” he purrs, leaning in close, his nose brushing against your cheek, nipping your jawline with sharp teeth, “Scared?  You a virgin?”

You can’t make yourself answer verbally, so you shake your head.  Your eyes dart to Vergil, both afraid and hopeful that he might tell Dante to stop, but the older of the twins is leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him.  He’s watching intently, his eyes locked on you and Dante, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s watching you with a cold hunger. Your breath comes in soft, shallow pants and you feel small and lost and you’re not just scared, you’re terrified.  You’ve heard rumors about the twins, whispers of debauchery and depravity, of overwhelming pain being delivered alongside overwhelming pleasure until there’s no difference between the two. Your interest in BDSM has never gone as far as you’re afraid they regularly go.

“Sure you’re not lyin’ to me, baby?” Dante asks, his grip tightening painfully on your inner thigh so that you gasp.  Reflexively, you stop pressing your thighs together, allowing him to pull your thigh against his hip so there’s just enough room for him to press them against the seam of your pants.  He applies pressure, explores your groin with searching fingers, pressing in against the edge of your pubic bone and then finds the soft give of your clit under the denim. You swallow, squirming, your thighs closing around his hand again, but it does nothing to stop him.  You grab at his wrist, but don’t dare try to pull his hand away this time either.

“I’m not a virgin,” you confirm, your voice breathy and shaking as you turn slightly toward Dante, leaning away from him again.  He’s still smirking, and then he wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes, drags you forward until your mouth meets his. He crushes your open mouth under his, his tongue stroking, thrusting past your lips.  Saliva leaks from the corner of your mouth and you don’t know whether it’s yours or his, but you feel heat seeping down your neck and clawing its way up from the depths of your belly. When he pulls away, it’s all you can do to breathe, your chest heaving, his hand still firmly curled around your throat, holding you there.

“Hey, Verge, want a show?” Dante asks, raising his voice, his eyes never leaving yours.  His pupils are dilated with arousal and excitement, abyss black pools in his crystal eyes.  It’s both beautiful and frightening, like standing on the ledge of a tower and feeling the call of the void.  It’s Vergil’s grunt from behind you that brings you out of your near-trance.

“By all means, Dante, put on a show for me,” he says, and Dante’s eyes slide past your face, his smirk shifting into a grin.  What you’re not prepared for is for him to release you, push you off his lap and stand you on your feet. You’re not prepared for your reaction to the loss of his hands on you, the way a whimper of protest rises in your throat.  You stumble over nothing, fighting to get your balance back, but then you’re standing and trembling, unsure of what’s happening next. You glance over at Vergil, afraid of what you’ll see in his face, but now he’s smiling and smug.

“Strip, baby,” Dante commands, and when you look back at him, he’s making himself comfortable, slouching a little in his chair, spreading his thighs wide.  One of his hands is cupped over the bulge of his erection, clearly visible through his pants as he rubs and strokes it. You can’t help staring, not when it extends at least halfway down his thigh.  You feel yourself biting your lip, but there’s another twinge of panic twisting in your stomach because you’ve never taken anything that big.

“See something you like, baby?” Dante asks, and your eyes bounce back up to his face, your cheeks flaming with heat again.  You reach for the hem of your sweater, and then hesitate, unsure if you want to strip for them, unsure if you have the choice.  You stand there uncertainly, staring at Dante’s self-satisfied smirk as he continues stroking himself, sitting in easy silence with predator patience.

“Don’t make my brother ask again,” Vergil says softly, his voice so heavy with threat that you flinch.  Your eyes flash over to him, see that the smile has dropped from his face. The hard stare he levels at you promises consequences if you don’t do as you’re told, though what sort of consequence, you don’t know.  You don’t want to imagine it, so instead you hurriedly pull your sweater up and over your head. You fold it quickly, drop it to the floor, and Dante laughs suddenly.

“She’s just like you Vergil, folding her clothes before she jumps on my cock,” he says, and you pause to stare at him, wondering if he means what he’s said literally.  There didn’t seem to be much room for interpretation with that statement, but Vergil makes no reply. You slowly pull the tee-shirt you were wearing under your sweater over your head, stalling for time and for a moment to hide your face.  

The air is cool on the bared skin of your stomach, chest, and shoulders.  You can’t help a shiver, but as you fold your tee-shirt, you realize you’re at a loss for what to take off next, whether they meant truly stripped.  You swallow hard, feeling suddenly shy, like you should be trying to hide yourself. For modesty’s sake, because of your bodily insecurities, because you’re supposed to, the reasons matter less than the fact that you haven’t even thought of it until now.  You wonder what they think of you, and then you wonder why you care. Why does it matter if they find you attractive or not? It’s not as if this means anything-

“Hurry up, baby, I wanna see you naked,” Dante says, his voice dropping into a purr again, but leaving you with no doubts about what they’re expecting from you.  You swallow hard and nod, toeing off your shoes and lining them up next to the soft, neat pile of your sweater, dropping the folded tee-shirt on top. You thumb open the button of your jeans, push them down over your hips.  You squirm when the denim pulls the cotton of your panties halfway down your ass, grabbing at the waistband to needlessly pull them up. You’re pushing your jeans towards your knees with one hand and using the other to pull your panties back on like they’re going to stay on and you have no idea why.

You let go of your panties, self-conscious that as you bend over to step out of your jeans, your ass is particularly prominent and both men have to be staring at it.  Your face is warming again, but you’re starting to want to hurry and get it over with, so you do. You shake out your jeans and fold them quickly, drop them on the pile, then unhook your bra.  The movements are mechanical, automatic, and you drop your bra on the pile. The action has the unpleasant effect of thrusting you out of your head, out of the miasma of your thoughts, or maybe you’re just finally catching up with yourself.  Either way, you’re suddenly in your body, cool air on your skin, your nipples tightening and the only thing you want to do is cover them.

“C’mere, baby,” Dante purrs, waving you closer when you turn your head to look at him.  You freeze, a deer in the headlights, and then force yourself to close the space between the two of you.  You come to a stop between his knees, but it’s not close enough because he lifts his hands and waits for you to step between them.  You have the sense that once you do, there will be no turning back, that it’s something you can’t undo, but you can’t figure out why.  It’s not just the sex, there’s something more hinted at behind the hot flash of his eyes as he looks up at you. Or maybe that’s just what you want to see in him and you’re deluding yourself.

You take another step forward, and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties.  He sits up and leans forward, pulls them down over your hips, but instead of watching what he’s doing, he’s looking up at you with a sly, cheshire cat smile.  It almost makes you forget that he’s stripping away the last piece of your clothing, the last thing between you and total nakedness. Around your knees, he lets go of your panties and they fall around your ankles.

“Do a spin for Vergil, baby,” Dante says, still smiling up at you.  It’s a playful command, but it’s still a command, not that you could refuse.  His hands come to rest on your hips, turning you and then you’re trying not to get tangled up in the panties hobbling your ankles.  You manage to kick them away, toward the pile of your clothes, and then you catch sight of Vergil, sitting behind his desk. Your eyes get wider when you see that he’s already undone his belt and pants and pulled his cock out, strokes it idly while he watches you.  He’s fully erect, long and thick, his cock curving up toward his stomach. You’re surprised that he’s so aroused, but then you’re wondering why you’re surprised and Dante keeps turning you until you’re facing him again.

“Come to Daddy, baby,” he coos, yanking you forward and down so that your knees hit the ground and your elbows hit his thighs.  His hands have vanished from your hips, and now they’ve reappeared, one in your hair and the other unbuckling his belt and opening the fly of his pants.  He pushes them and his underwear down all at once, freeing his cock which stuns you with it’s sheer size. You wish you could compare the two, but given that Dante and Vergil are twins, you imagine that they’re about the same size.  You whine in your nervousness, wondering if even fucking just one of them will split you apart, if you could fit something like that inside you. It seems impossible, just as impossible as somehow taking the cock in front of your face in your mouth or down your throat.

He uses the grip on your hair to pull you closer to his cock, and then says, “Spread your legs for Vergil, baby, so he can see that cute little pussy.”  You’re not exactly sure how Vergil would be able to see you from that angle, so you adjust your position, shift your knees back and spread them. It forces your back to arch and you have to brace a hand on the floor, but Dante purrs and seems pleased. You feel your pussy contract nervously, feeling exposed, so you distract yourself by licking the underside of his cock.  It’s tentative, questioning, and Dante pulls your head up with his grip on your hair so that your lips are resting against the tip of his cock. 

“Be a good girl and suck on Daddy’s cock,” he says, his grip on your hair loosening slightly.  You whimper, but obey. You kiss the frenulum first, then open your mouth and wrap your lips around the tip, sucking lightly.  You tongue at the very tip of it, putting gentle pressure against the opening there, and then you curl your tongue under it. You massage it in circles, then dip your head down, taking a little more of his cock into your mouth, trying to start a rhythm.  You won’t be able to take all of his cock, even if you can get him into your throat, so you use your free hand to wrap it around the base of his cock, stroke him in time with your sucking and the dip of your head. Your fingers don’t meet there, but it’s good enough to get a vocal reaction out of him.

“Fffuuuuck,” he groans, falling against the back of his chair, “You’ve got a nice mouth, baby.”

“You act as if I didn’t blow you this morning,” Vergil says from his chair across the room, darkly amused.  You almost pull off Dante’s cock because you want to look at him, but Dante’s hand tightens in your hair, pushes your head down so that you take three or four inches of his cock all at once.  You gag and sputter, trying to pull off with your free hand on his hip because you didn’t expect that, weren’t prepared, but as saliva drips over your bottom lip and down his cock, you hear him respond.

“Yeah, you blew me this morning but she’s got a hot little mouth, Verg, and it feels damn good,” Dante says, sounding a little defensive.  It’s only after he’s finished speaking that he lets up the pressure on your head, allowing you to pull off to catch your breath, but then he’s pushing you back down his cock and it’s filling your mouth, forcing your lips apart and your tongue down.  You feel yourself about to choke, but then you swallow and sink a little further down on his cock, the tip of it pushing down your throat. The arm holding you up feels shaky, and you realize distantly that you’re trembling from the effort of not choking on Dante’s cock.  It’s a lot to take, especially when he’s forcing your head down onto it. You’re grateful that he’s not thrusting into your mouth because that would be harder to take, no control, just the helplessness of being a fucktoy.

You wonder if he treats Vergil the same way he treats you, but you can’t imagine it.  Nothing about Vergil says to you that he would let Dante manhandle him like this. Vergil would take control, pin Dante’s hips down and suck him dry no matter how much Dante fought him.  You wonder if Dante would let you hold him still, but there’s no time to think because he’s pulling you off partway and then he’s thrusting his hips, fucking your mouth in measured strokes.  It’s still intense, but you can manage it, pulling quick breaths in through your nose as he pulls out, sucking when he thrusts back in. He’s not quite hitting the back of your throat, but you’re not gagging, not choking.  You swallow at the critical moments, the moments when he presses a little deeper or when you feel yourself about to lose control. It takes all of your focus and you lose track of whether or not Dante and Vergil are still talking over your head.

You’re not prepared for Dante to suddenly, and a little violently, yank you off his cock, but he does it and you find yourself trying to get it back in your mouth.  He chuckles above you, and then you look up at him, saliva streaked down your chin, wanting to know why he made you stop. You were just getting a handle on the situation-

“Awww, you wanted more, baby?” Dante taunts, his hand coming down, fingers curling under your jaw as his thumb swipes across your slick, slack lips.  You shut your mouth as his thumb rubs at the corner of it, smearing your saliva across your skin. His smile is both indulgent and victorious, like he knows he’s got you.  You want to prove him wrong, but it doesn’t seem worth the struggle of it, so instead you nod as you look up at him.

“You’re a slut, you know that?” he says, releasing your hair and seizing your upper arm in his hand.  He drags you up, pulling you against his body, then lets go and uses both hands to maneuver you into place.  He places your limbs like you were a doll, spreading your knees over his thighs, draping your calves over the arms of his chair.  It’s not the most secure way to sit, especially not since his knees are still wide apart. Your hands are flat against his chest, his pecs firm and hot under your palms, hoping that you won’t slip.  You feel like you might, but you’re trying not to grab onto the lapels of his suit. It’s not that you’re afraid Dante will be angry, you get the impression he doesn’t care much about his clothes, but you think Vergil might be.  They’re both impeccably turned out, Dante in burgundy and Vergil in navy, but Dante has no tie.

“I’m not really a slut,” you protest quietly, half hoping that he won’t hear you, but then Dante is taking your hands and lifting them to his shoulders.  You don’t miss the fact that like this, he has access to every part of you. You don’t miss that you’re on display either. You suppose the point was to give Vergil a show, to let him be the voyeur, but you’re realizing now that Dante is his exhibitionist counterpart.  It makes you nervous to be this exposed and you lick your lips as you settle your forearms on Dante’s shoulders, clasp your hands behind his neck.

“You suck cock like one,” Dante responds breezily, “And I bet you’re wet.”  His fingers are wrapped around your ribs, thumbs rubbing over your rapidly-hardening nipples.  One hand drifts down your sternum, his fingertips sliding lightly over your skin, down your stomach to your pubic bone and then between your labia.  He circles two fingers over the hood of your clit, pressing in against the root of it, trapping it against the edge of your pubic bone. You gasp audibly, your hips jerking, unsure if you want more or if you want it to stop.  The arms of the chair dig in hard against your calves, your knees closing a fraction around Dante’s torso. You bite your lip and tighten your fingers behind his neck, trying to stay still, to not squirm or thrust your hips.

“Ah!” you moan sharply when his fingers close like a vise around your nipple, but the end of the sound is choked off when he twists and it burns.  You can’t help your reaction, the way your back curves as you try to pull your chest away from his hands, but then two fingers are pressing steadily into your cunt.  Your hips thrust forward, but it shifts your spine back into an arch, lifting your breast to his hand. He purrs, the sound low and rumbling, as he releases your nipple and instead cups your breast and squeezes it.  His fingers withdraw from your pussy a little, and then they’re pushing deeper. You’re not as wet as you could be and his fingers are thick, but he’s curling the tips over inside you, pushing the tips against the soft walls of your insides, massaging, searching.  It’s an unexpectedly methodical and meticulous process, not something you expected from Dante.

“Wet, but not sopping,” he comments, the timbre of his voice as rough as his tone is pleased, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have you dripping down my cock when I fuck you.”  He pulls his fingers out, dragging the tips against the front of your vagina, and then pushes them back into you. This time they’re so deep that you can feel the edges of his fingerless gloves, the leather catching on the edge of you and then penetrating you with the rest of his fingers.

“You’re going to ruin your gloves,” you gasp, unable to help the way your hips rock and circle.  His other hand switches to your other breast, palming it and wrapping his fingers around it, squeezing hard.

“You think I care about my gloves?” he asks with sudden amusement, looking at you like you’ve suggested something truly ridiculous, and you flush with embarrassment that you can’t quite come to terms with.  He really will ruin them if he smears them with your slick, and even if he doesn’t really care about them, he’s probably worn these in, right? You’re wondering again why you care, and wondering why you had such a reaction to him talking about fucking you until you’re dripping down his cock.  You lose focus on his face, your eyes drifting to somewhere over his shoulder, trying to reconcile how much you shouldn’t want this and how much you do.

You’re suddenly brought back to yourself when Dante’s hand lifts your breast and his head bends, catches your nipple between his teeth.  He bites down and you yelp and writhe, but then his tongue is swirling around and around, lapping at the abused pebble of flesh before he sucks on it.  His mouth is wet and warm, warmer than your skin, and you sigh, your back arching a little further reflexively. The shift causes your thighs to part a little more, but now Dante’s fingers are deep in your cunt, tapping at and massaging something deep inside of you that makes your head fall back, your mouth open in a long, breathless moan.  He’s no longer thrusting his fingers into you, instead he presses them as deep into you as they can go, firmly stroking that spot until your hips rock forward in a silent request for him not to stop.

He sucks hard on your nipple, pulls back at the same time so that it stretches until it snaps back, and some small, animal noise escapes your mouth when it does.  His free hand slides around your back, pulls your chest toward him, bends his head to take your other nipple into his mouth. This one he flicks his tongue over repeatedly, pausing to bite down on the tip of it with his teeth, pressing in until you whine at the pain of it.  The pair of fingers in your cunt never stop in their steady stimulation of your insides, only broken by a shallow, occasional rock of his hand. Both sensations are rhythmic and varied, and you’re slipping into the trance of focused, continuous pleasure swamping your senses.

“I think you’ve sufficiently won her over, Dante,” Vergil says from behind you, his voice slightly dry with impatience.  Dante laughs before he’s let go of your nipple, and you’re suddenly aware that you’re rocking your hips, riding his fingers the best you can from the position you’re in.  You stop immediately, too self-conscious to continue though Dante’s fingers remain buried deep in your cunt. They do, however, go still as Dante’s attention shifts from you to his brother.

“Is that a request for me to fuck her already?” Dante asks, and your gaze drops to the erection still standing proudly from his fly.  It hasn’t flagged, if anything it looks harder than it did when Dante first pulled it free. This close, you’re able to see just how big it is, how long and how thick.  It reaches past your navel, though you’re a little slouched right now, slung over the chair as you are. You think about the way your fingers couldn’t meet when your hand was wrapped around it, and you swallow hard.  You’re not convinced that it’ll fit, but you have no doubts that Dante will try to make it. Your breath comes in a shallow, scared pant, your stomach and chest jumping with it.

“I want to hear her cum on your cock,” Vergil says, and there’s no dryness in his tone now, only a hungry growl that makes you shiver and wonder if he’ll really be content just to watch.  What would he even want? For you to blow him? To fuck your ass? You fervently hope that he just wants a turn after Dante is done with you, that he has some kind of sloppy seconds kink.

“Well, let’s rock and roll, baby,” Dante says, his fingers withdrawing from you.  You groan softly at the loss, then shiver with apprehension when you remember that Dante’s cock is a lot bigger than two of his fingers.  His hands land on your hips, fingers, wet on one side, closing in bruise-tight around your flesh and bones so that he can lift you. It steals your breath away that he does it so effortlessly, lifts you like that and pulls you closer, then lowers you until the tip of his cock is just against your open cunt.  Impulsively, you lean closer to him, releasing your clutching hands from each other and wrapping your arms around his neck. Dante tips his head back, smirking up at you, and you nod silently to let him know that you’re ready.

You’re not really ready, you weren’t prepared for this and Dante really didn’t prepare you for it either.  Though you’re slick enough to ease the way some, sinking down on his cock like this makes you feel like it’s splitting you open.  It hurts, the stretch so intense that it burns and feels like you might tear at any moment if you move wrong. Your thighs tense, the muscles rippling like you might try to climb off him, but then Dante’s hands are cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.  It causes your weight to shift and you slide further down on his cock. Now it’s pressing up against the limit of you, confirming what you feared: it’s too big and can’t fit entirely inside you. Your pussy shudders and shivers, spasming as it fights to adjust to the overwhelming invasion, gripping his cock, unable to let go.

Dante kisses you deep, his open mouth against yours, his tongue stroking and curling your own.  You try to respond, but the pained, panicked sobs that keep escaping your throat prevent that. His mouth only partially muffles the noises you can’t seem to stop making no matter how you try to control it, and then you give up on trying when your eyes burn and tears spill down your cheeks.  They’re hot and they sting, a prickling accompaniment to the burn and ache of your overstretched, overstuffed cunt. Dante’s hands drop from your jaw, dragging down your body over your breasts, your ribs, your waist, come to rest on your hips again. He lifts you slightly, his mouth still on yours, and then he thrusts up into you.

You’re not ready for this either, not ready for the supreme pleasure of the drag of his cock as he slides out of you, not ready for the intensity of him thrusting back in and filling the hollowness he left behind.  One sob hitches into a little cry of pleasure, more of them following suit as Dante establishes his rhythm and fucks you with short, steady strokes. Your arms are still tight around his neck, and then they loosen as you curl forward to rest against his chest, bury your face in his neck.  The stubble on his jaw scrapes against your temple, but you’re barely aware of it, barely aware of anything that’s not Dante’s cock leaving you empty and then filling you up again. The pain blurs into the pleasure, and Dante wraps one arm around your waist, holds you secure against his body.  His free hand worms its way between the two of you, and then his mouth is against your temple in an open-mouthed kiss that lingers against your skin.

His fingers find your clit, applying pressure and rubbing against it, settling into a relentless circling that makes you keen.  You’re not sure whether your thighs somehow spread further apart or if your muscles just gave out on you, but you feel yourself drop a little lower on Dante’s cock.  He rumbles, a sound that’s part purr and part growl, his arm tightening around your waist, fingers still circling your clit and driving you into a mindless grind against him.  His strokes lengthen, the pleasure climbing with the increased drag.

“Fuck,” he growls, his voice dropping, “Tight little cunt is sucking at my cock, feels so good, baby.”  

You want to say something, want to beg him to fuck you more, harder, faster, want to ask him to make you cum.  The only thing you manage to moan against his neck is, “Don’t stop.”

You’re lost in it, lost in the pleasure and the twinges of pain when he thrusts a little too hard and a little too deep.  Lost in the curl of his arm around your waist, lost in the heat that rushes under your skin and the pressure winding tighter and tighter low in your pelvis.  You feel anchored and unmoored at the same time, drifting and sinking, diving and drowning. Your orgasm is coming, pulsing in you, squeezing tight around the thick cock forcing you open, so close, so close-

You wonder if it takes Dante by surprise for the split second you have before it takes over, before your climax rises up and claims you.  It feels like falling apart and like you’ve never been so whole, it’s lostness and foundness, but most of all it’s a bursting and an overflowing, a fullness that reaches its limit and then drains off.  White-hot stars flash in your vision, swelling until they’re all you can see.

Dante draws your orgasm out with a skill that surprises you in a distant, far off way.  He slows his thrusts but keeps them steady, rubs your clit lightly through it until you’re shivering and coming down off the high.  The white flashes bleed out of your vision and then you’re limp in Dante’s arm, against his chest, shuddering and whimpering, writhing as even that light rubbing of your oversensitive clit becomes too much.  His fingers lift from your clit and you feel like you can finally just let go and catch your breath and bask in the beautiful warmth of your afterglow, even with Dante’s still hard cock buried deep inside you.

You’re startled by the light, firm touch on your back, but you can’t muster the energy to jump.  Instead, you lift your impossibly heavy head from Dante’s neck and look back, blinking. It takes you a moment to register that it’s not a second Dante standing behind you, but Vergil, his cock hanging heavily over the open fly of his pants.  His palm is warm and soothing against your spine as he bends down. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he leans over your head and kisses Dante. It’s an intensely sensual kiss, open mouths and sliding tongues, both of them pressing into it, sighing.

You should be disgusted, should be repulsed, but the only thing you feel watching them kiss is a sense of awe at their beauty.  They’re matched in a way that you can sense, not see, something resonating at the same frequency in both of them that only gets louder the closer they are to each other.  After another moment, you drop your face back into the curve of Dante’s neck, resting your forehead there and letting your eyes close. It’s partly because you’re exhausted and aching, your hips threatening to cramp up and your pussy still stretched so far open that it’s uncomfortably warm.

Dante, seemingly absently, wraps both his hands around your hip bones, tugs you a little bit closer to him.  Two things happen as a result of this: first, a little more of his cock slides into you and you moan into Dante’s skin at the impossible pressure of it.  Second, Vergil’s hand settles between your shoulder blades and pushes you closer to Dante, your chest pressed to his. You’re bewildered by this, and then more so when Vergil’s lips land on the back of your shoulder, a warm, soft, lingering kiss.  His other hand is lightly caressing your waist, gliding down and tracing Dante’s fingers where they press into your flesh. He’s deliberate, careful, like you thought, but so much gentler than you had imagined.

Vergil’s hand lifts from between your shoulder blades, his fingers dancing down the line of your spine to the small of your back and then pressing there.  You adjust in response, wondering at the skill he wields in communicating what he wants by only a light touch. You arch your back, angling your hips forward, and then his fingertips travel away from your hip, skimming over your ass.  You feel a flush rise in your cheeks, feel grateful that you’re too close for Dante to see it, at the wrong angle for Vergil to see it. You’re almost too embarrassed to realize when Vergil lifts his lips from your shoulder, but not too embarrassed to not have a reaction when his fingers gently explore where Dante is buried so deep in you.  You’re slick, his fingertips running easily through the fluid clinging to you and Dante, and then he purrs.

“Dante was right when he said he’d have you dripping,” he murmurs against your neck, soft lips brushing so lightly against your skin that you can’t help but shiver.  His fingertips are still circling Dante’s cock, rubbing against the edges of you stretched so tight around it. The sensation of it is strange and foreign, not something anyone’s ever done to you, not something you’ve ever done to yourself.  Vergil applies pressure as he continues running his fingers around you and Dante, and you cling to Dante, squeezing your eyes shut, whimpering, trembling. Dante isn’t unaffected by the stimulation either, you feel him shudder under you, his cock jumping at the attention.  You whine when you feel it, and then the first of Vergil’s fingers sinks into you alongside Dante’s cock.

You can’t help your reaction, the gasp and yelp of alarm that escapes your mouth as you jump.  Your legs are shaking as your muscles contract, nearly lift you, but then Dante’s hands are bruisingly tight on your hips and he’s saying, “Take it easy, baby.”

“Mmmmm, yes, and take a deep breath,” Vergil instructs, easing his finger a little deeper into you.  The burn of an overwhelming stretch is back, but now concentrated on the side where Vergil’s finger is in you alongside Dante’s cock.  You try to obey, but your cunt is spasming, hot and painful and then you’re panting in your panic.

“I can’t-” you say, your voice breathless and high pitched, “I can’t-”

“You will,” Vergil says suddenly, his voice stern, his tone low and rough.  The growl gives his command an added weight that makes you freeze up and then shiver.

“C’mon, sweetheart, deep breath,” Dante coaxes, his tone sweet and soothing.  It’s still not enough to get you to relax any, the most you can manage is holding yourself as still as you can.  Your breath is still coming in shallow pants as Dante says, “Inhale-”

It surprises you both when Vergil’s hand slaps your ass hard, making you jump and cry out and Dante moan and dig his fingers even harder into your hips.  You’re shaking, but your legs release for a moment and you sink back on to Dante’s cock. Vergil leans in, his mouth next to you ear as he says coldly, “Do as you’re told.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice quivering, and you pull in a nearly normal breath, feel your chest expand as you inhale.

“Good girl,” Dante says softly, but now his tone is strained, “Now exhale.”  You let the air in your lungs escape through your open mouth, stirring Dante’s silver hair.  He leans his head against yours, resting his cheekbone against your hair as he exhales himself, his grip on your hips loosening.

“Next time, it’s ‘yes, sir,’” Vergil says in your ear, a strangely chilling nonchalance in his voice as he works his finger deeper into you, further along Dante’s cock.  It still burns, but less now and as you take another breath, Vergil works a second finger into you alongside the first.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, shuddering with the stretch of it, thinking briefly that this is not at all what you expected to happen.  You’d been afraid that he would want to get into your ass, never dreamed that he might try to get into your cunt with Dante. As big as Dante already is, as big as you’ve seen Vergil is, you still have no idea if they’ll be able to get inside you or if they’re just trying to rip you apart.  Fear claws its way up your throat and you bury your face in Dante’s neck, trying not to cry. It makes it hard to maintain your breathing, hard to focus enough to relax as Vergil twists his fingers lightly, testing the give of your vagina. His other hand is still firm in the small of your back, but it’s steady, comforting even.

“We’ve got you, baby,” Dante sighs against your hair, nuzzling you, pressing a kiss that you can barely feel against your head, “Trust me, you’re gonna love it when we’re both fucking your tight little cunt.”  You desperately want to believe him, but the fear is still there, thrumming under your skin, spiking when Vergil adds a third finger. You can’t hold back the tiny moan that slips out your parted lips against Dante’s shirt collar, or the high pitched noise of dismay you make when Vergil’s hand leaves your back.  Vergil laughs, brief and soft, plants a kiss on the peak of your shoulder.

“Needy, are we?” he asks, somewhere between vicious taunt and gentle tease, and then there’s a click from behind you, “Dante was right, you are a slut.  All that squirming and complaining and now you’re disappointed when I take one hand away from you even though my fingers-” he takes this moment to twist and flex the three fingers inside you next to Dante’s cock so that you keen, though with pleasure or pain you’re not sure, “-are still in your cunt.”  He starts to pull his fingers out of you, though the tips of them remain inside you, but when he pushes them back into you, they’re wet and slick and slide fast and easy alongside Dante’s cock, along the walls of your pussy. Vergil sets a slow rhythm of fucking you with his fingers, and Dante can’t seem to stop himself from rocking his hips, fucking you shallowly.

For a second, you almost hate Dante for being right as much as you almost feel triumphant that Dante was wrong.  Being fucked by two things at once in the same hole is pleasurable, yes, but it’s also still painful, still burns.  What it really is is overwhelming, so much so that the pain and the pleasure blur together a second time into a complex swirl of stimulation that you have no defense against.  When Vergil twists his fingers, forcing you to stretch wider, tugging at the edge of you, all you can do is moan and let it happen. He pulls and suddenly there’s heat moving under your skin, your cunt spasming as you realize how far you’ve been opened, how helpless they’ve made you in this process, how willing you were and are to let them keep going.  It’s like being owned-

You moan out loud at the thought, and then Dante is chuckling, his voice a velvet purr as he says, “Oh, baby, you’re such a slut.  You’re so wet right now and it’s not just the lube, wait until you get Vergil in you too.” You’re suddenly aware of the feeling of Dante sliding in and out of you, and it must be true because his cock is moving in an easy glide even as Vergil pulls at the other side of your cunt.

“Keep fucking her, Dante,” Vergil says from behind you and maybe somewhere slightly above you.  Two of his fingers slip from your cunt and you whimper at the loss of it, but then you can feel the tip of his cock pressing into you, his remaining finger hooked in your pussy and pulling it open enough for him to get inside you.  Dante doesn’t stop, but he does slow, and then the head of Vergil’s cock is in you too. You’re breathless with the stretch of it, already so much more than his fingers combined with Dante’s cock. It takes you longer than it should to process when Vergil’s hands settle over Dante’s at your hips, his fingers wet with lube and your slick on one side, smearing it over your skin and Dante’s fingers.

Vergil presses into you slowly, his cock sliding steadily against Dante’s shallow thrusts, making his way into you by slow degrees.  It’s more than too much, more than overwhelming, you don’t have words for the sensation. It’s something like being forcibly opened and torn apart at the same time, pleasure and pain sending you soaring into the upper atmosphere and plunging into the depths of the ocean at the same time.  Fire prickles everywhere, most intense at your cunt as Vergil carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in.

Your back arches as it all takes on a new intensity as they both fuck you, and the back of your head comes to rest against Vergil’s collarbone.  You look up at him and there’s a vicious smile curling the corner of his mouth, and he lifts a hand to your throat, fingertips pressing into your jawbone as he leans down and twists his head to kiss you.  You’re losing yourself in the slide of tongues and cocks when you feel Dante shift, his mouth coming to rest against your throat. He kisses, sucks, nips, licks, and you moan into Vergil’s mouth as you squirm.  To your surprise and a hazy kind of delight, they both groan. A moment later, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake because Dante thrusts harder and Vergil pushes deeper into you and you don’t know if you’re ready.

It hurts again, but not in the same way that any of it has hurt before, the pain sharper and hotter, the burning transforming into a red hot heat that’s strongest where you’re wrapped around both their cocks as they fuck you in alternating strokes.  Vergil suddenly pulls away from your mouth, and then you’re crushed between them as he leans in and kisses Dante over your shoulder. It’s the same kind of all-consuming kiss they shared before, but this time they’re both fucking you, your cunt speared open on both their cocks.  You close your eyes and lose yourself again in the sea of sensation, letting the stimulation wash over you, take over all your senses until it’s all you know.

You come to with a questioning little moan when you feel something smooth pressed against your clit.  You don’t know whose hand it is, you only know that you feel the item jostled and then it comes to life, vibrating against your clit.  You buck and jerk, keening at the sudden addition of more stimulation, writhing between their bodies. They both laugh, but it’s more moan than actual laugh, something more sensual than mirthful, and then there’s another hand on you, pulling the hood of your clit back for the vibrator.  The rhythm of their fucking falters, and for a moment you’re nearly empty, held open only by the tips of their cocks and the next full with both their cocks, your cunt straining to hold them both at once. 

“Cum for us, baby,” Dante says, his lips suddenly against your cheek.

“So greedy,” Vergil growls against your other cheek, “Needing two cocks to cum a second time.  Show us just how much of a slut you are. Cum.” 

You don’t quite orgasm on command, but it’s more than close enough.  A couple more thrusts, the vibrator pushed harder against your clit and pulsing insistently, and you climax.  It starts with a choked off moan and then morphs into sobbed cries as your overworked cunt pulses and shudders, clenching and unclenching around both their cocks.  Someone moans and one rhythm goes erratic, then so does the other. You can’t track who does what, when, all you know is that you can’t stop writhing because the vibrator is still against your clit and it’s too much.

The vibrator is removed first, and then the buzzing stops.  You try to turn your head, see whose hand it was in, but that takes too much effort.  The only thing you’re really capable of is breathing, or so you think until the first cock slides out of you.  You moan, a low, drawn out sound that you barely recognize as your own voice, and there’s quiet, breathless laughter above your head.  You only shiver when the second cock is withdrawn, and then there are hands gently lifting your knees, pausing when you mumble an incoherent protest.  When you open your eyes, it’s Vergil’s hands under your knees, and Dante runs his hands along your thighs until he reaches your hips, rubs around your aching joints, pushing his thumbs in and massaging.  You struggle weakly, but Vergil clicks his tongue.

“Cooperate,” he intones, though he’s not nearly as harsh as you expected him to be.  Still, you stop resisting, and then they’re lifting you together, folding you into some semblance of a human being.  It ends with your knees slung over Vergil’s elbow and his arm curled around your back so he can carry you to his desk.  He puts you down on the surface and you shiver from the coolness against your still-hot skin. The coolness of the desk’s top feels good against your sore cunt, soothing and numbing the residual pain, but you cringe when you realize that you’re leaking, smearing lube and slick and cum on the surface.  Dante and Vergil are both standing now, tucking themselves back into their pants, zipping and buttoning themselves back up. They buckle their belts, Vergil finishing first and retrieving your clothes. He sorts through them, hands your shoes, jeans, tee shirt, and bra to Dante who unceremoniously tosses them onto the chair he was sitting on while they fucked you.  One of your shoes falls off and bounces on the floor before coming to a rest, but then you look up because Vergil is standing in front of you with your sweater and your panties.

He sets your sweater next to you on the desk and then kneels, saying, “Stand up, kitten.”  His voice is soft and indulgent, and through the fog of your exhaustion and afterglow, you’re astonished that he could be so doting.  You slide off the desk and step into your panties, putting a hand down on his shoulder to keep your balance. He doesn’t rebuke you for it, just patiently waits until they’re on and then pulls them up your legs and over your hips.  He stands before you can move your hand, rising until he’s towering over you, and then he bends to kiss you. It’s soft and pleasant, affectionate, and you sway under the potency of something so simple. 

Next is your sweater, and he helps you put that on too, as if you were a child.  If it were anyone else, if it were any other time, you think you might be offended, but right now it feels so good to have someone pay so much attention to your care and keeping, even if you’re barely dressed.  You’re a little startled when something is draped over your shoulders, something heavy and smelling of spice and musk, but then Vergil is pulling the coat around you and Dante is kissing the top of your head before saying, “Let’s keep her, Verge.”

“For once, I’m inclined to agree with you,” Vergil responds, bending and scooping you up, sweeping you off your feet.  You almost wish you weren’t so well fucked so that you could appreciate it more, but as things stand, you rest your head against Vergil’s shoulder and let your eyes close as he says, “We should get her home, put her to bed.”

“Yeah, I’ll call the car ‘round for us,” Dante responds, his voice fading out with every syllable.

You sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> My usual partner-in-sin K told me to write this three or four times and I'm finally doing it. You can thank her for the title too because Lord knows I failed at trying to titled it. The DMC 5 soundtrack apparently has a track titled "Unbearable Pressure" so there we go.
> 
> Kudos and comments give me warm fuzzy feelings and encourage me to write more so please tell me what your favorite thing about this was!


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